"I feel buoyant beyond measure, by the gods!" Ismeth exclaimed.
For a few hours, Caleb and he had been meandering through the winding streets of Barnachia in their ethereal apparitions, concealed from the sight of mundane mortals. In truth, the young wizard, harboring a tinge of mischief, found solace in having eluded the clutches of Celestia's boundaries. However, Ismeth's endeavor to relish the moment swiftly frayed Caleb's nerves. He couldn't shake off David's parting admonition, which lingered in his mind, and he reiterated it to Ismeth:
"Remember, Ismeth Crimsongale, time is an elusive companion. This is no trifling game. Our companion may vanish into the void without a trace. You are the passenger, and I am the guide. As Master David emphatically expressed, it is entirely plausible that Brad's guide could be the haunting sorcerer Ilberius."
"Very well, I shall regain my composure. Yet, there is an oddly enchanting delight in treading barefoot upon the frost-kissed ground. It is chilly, but not frigid to the core. Can you perceive the tantalizing aroma wafting from the artisanal bakery? They concoct extraordinarily delectable olive bread. I confess, my cravings have taken hold," Ismeth mused.
Ismeth resembled naught but a wayward adolescent boy, ensnared in the turbulence of adolescence. He persistently dissipated into sheer whimsy. His mischievous and childlike persona had completely overtaken his ethereal essence.
"By the gods, you've become quite the laid-back fellow!" Caleb grumbled. "Concentrate."
"Alright, alright. Where does Brad venture? When Brad is confounded, his anger flares. He yearns for a brawl. But alas, in our current state, we cannot throw punches, can we?"
"Indeed. Unless you possess the specialized training of a monk, it remains unattainable," Caleb replied.
"Speaking of monks, a thought just struck me. What might the White Maiden be occupied with at this moment, I ponder? Perhaps she sits amidst the temple's garden, upon the snow-clad ground, immersed in profound meditation. Oh, the sheer beauty of it all."
"The White Maiden?" Caleb inquired.
"Shaeala Alchanor. Lady Illaine's personal guardian. We crossed paths but yesterday. Time gallops at a startling pace. Night descends upon us. I surmise Brad has sought solace within the temple's hallowed walls."
"Are you concocting excuses to catch a glimpse of the White Maiden?" Caleb skeptically questioned.
"No, it is not like that. Brad hails from Barnachia and is a knight, yet he lacks companionship in these environs. His only familiar domains are the orphanage and the Orion Temple. He is a man of astute judgment. Once he comprehends the gravity of the situation, he shall seek counsel from a sagacious mentor. In due course, he will assuredly yearn to beseech Lady Illaine."
"Verily, what you express holds logic. Night encroaches, bringing forth darkness and introspection. The verdant moon, embodiment of Mother Earth Gaiya, graces the celestial expanse. On such nights, primal instincts stir. Given your befuddled friend's dread of surrendering to his own primal urges..."
"Wait a moment," Ismeth interjected, his voice determined. "Brad relies on his instincts, not mere primal urges. Do not depict him as some uncultivated savage devoid of training. He is far from being a barbarian. He willingly chose to depart from the esteemed ranks of the temple knights."
"Exactly my point. Why did Brad relinquish his esteemed role as a temple knight? Especially when he was on the cusp of completing his rigorous training?" Caleb inquired.
"I cannot claim to know the specifics. Perhaps dogmatic influences played a role. Brad is a spirited soul, unshackled and free. Just like me. Perhaps there lingers within him a touch more untamed wilderness," Ismeth replied.
"I have been deliberating on this matter for a full hour now. Brad, during his arduous training as a temple knight, must have encountered an event, violated some sacred tenets. And he must have grappled with an irreconcilable conflict within his pride, Ismeth... Has he ever alluded to such an incident in your conversations?"
Ismeth shook his head, his expression conveying a negative response. "Brad is reserved, holding his secrets close. Yet, you might be onto something. He purposefully evades discussion of this particular issue. But how does it relate to our current discourse?" he inquired.
"Because there must exist a catalyst for Brad's loss of control. Ilberius alone cannot be the sole instigator. There must have been a traumatic occurrence. Something that precludes its recurrence. Something that affected someone dear to him, and he fervently wishes to shield Charlotta from a similar fate."
"If I can make sense of your babbling, may the Dunhar barbarians trample me with spiked boots, Caleb. I am bound for the temple. Will you accompany me?" Ismeth inquired.
"You are the passenger, and I am the guide," Caleb replied.
"Seems like you won't make this trip easy for me," Ismeth remarked, a chuckle escaping his lips. He then closed his eyes, adhering to David's teachings, and took deep breaths to conjure a vision of the temple. His mind settled into a tranquil state. Despite occasional glimpses of the White Virgin flitting through his thoughts, he maintained unwavering focus. Upon reopening his eyes, they found themselves standing in the very garden where his gaze first fell upon Shaeala.
"You must admit, I'm improving at this," Ismeth boasted, his confidence blooming like a proud peacock.
"Your composure and ease lend themselves well to astral travel. I can not deny that. Not once did you gaze at the heavens and lose yourself," Caleb jested.
"Why would I lose myself in the sky, my friend? Does it possess the curves of a woman?" Ismeth grinned mischievously, his words dripping with playful banter.
Caleb burst into laughter. "Indeed, you are an impeccable candidate, Ismeth," he chuckled.
As they ventured down the path nestled between the whitewoods, a piercing scream reached their ears, urging them to hasten toward its origin. Swiftly, they arrived at the entrance of a cavernous cellar, hewn skillfully into the solid rock. Descending the stairs with urgency, they pressed on.
"Christine, is it truly you?" Ismeth inquired, his gaze falling upon the petite, fair-haired girl who clutched a flickering torch in the temple's vestibule.
Christine quivered like a fragile leaf, surrounded by casks of wine and tin containers of cheese. With a torn piece of her gown, she endeavored to cleanse the spilled wine.
"You comprehend that she neither saw nor heard us, don't you, Ismeth?" Caleb interjected.
"I see and hear you," the little girl affirmed, her gaze fixated upon them. "It is my curse, to witness the departed," she began to weep.
Ismeth extended his hands, seeking to calm the distressed child. "Hush now, take solace, little one. Although we appear peculiar like a ghost at the moment, we have yet to face death's embrace. Do you not recall our meeting? We were acquainted but yesterday. I am Ismeth Crimsongale, a knight of Illuen."
"Yes, I remember you, gallant knight," Christine replied, finding a measure of solace. Slowly, she rose from the ground, approaching the duo with her torch in hand. "Why do you find yourselves in this place?" she inquired.
"We embark on a noble quest, fair lady. Merely passing through this vicinity, we sensed the tremor in your voice. Why did it waver with a cry?" Ismeth countered, his words bearing a question.
"Because frightful noises emanated from the floor beneath," the little girl responded, extending her finger to indicate the door leading to the cellar.
"Could it be our friend's doing?" Caleb queried, casting a skeptical gaze upon the entrance.
"Fear not, Christine. We stand united by your side. We shall investigate," Ismeth reassured her.
"As unstable incorporeals, we may find ourselves unable to open any doors. Particularly within this sanctified haven. How do you propose to proceed, Ismeth?" Caleb asked. Then, turning his attention to the young girl, he inquired, "Truly, I am intrigued. How do you possess the ability to perceive our presence? Is it through the workings of divine magic?"
"According to the High Priest, this ability was bestowed upon me from birth. It is the reason they spoke of my potential as a white maiden. The duty of the white maidens is to wage war against beings from realms beyond our own," she explained.
"Indeed," another voice chimed, and as Caleb turned towards it, a swift kick struck him, propelling him two meters away. He let out a pained groan, writhing on the ground.
Ismeth, too, redirected his attention to the same direction. "Greetings, Shaeala," he retorted with a grin.
The furious monk hesitated for a moment upon laying eyes on Ismeth, but then unleashed a swift punch upon him as well.
"But that truly hurt," Ismeth expressed, visibly shaken by the blow.
"She doubled it for me," Caleb chimed in, lending his protest, while writhing in pain.
"Remain calm, Shae. They are our allies," Christine interjected.
"Which one assaulted you?" the incensed white maiden demanded, seething with anger.
"None of them, honestly. I heard peculiar sounds emanating from below, Shae. Suddenly, a wine barrel from above toppled over, hurtling towards me. Frightened, I screamed. That's the whole story," Christine explained.
"Aren't you the knight I encountered yesterday?" Shaeala inquired, turning her gaze towards Ismeth.
The knight, blessed with dual sight, took a deep breath. "Yes, my lady. Weren't we destined to be partners by the command of Lady Illaine? Why this lack of trust?" he protested.
"I'm certain the terms of our partnership didn't include knights wandering in ethereal forms," Shaeala responded.
"The monk woman speaks the truth," Caleb added.
Ismeth cast a defiant gaze at the young wizard before turning his attention to the White Maiden. "Listen, Shae. May I address you as Shae? You won't deliver another blow to my face, will you?"
The monk woman extended her hands, signaling her readiness for an explanation.
"My partner, Brad is nowhere to be found. Let's say that he succumbed to excessive Averan powder consumption and delved into the astral realms. We are on a quest to locate him. We thought he might be seeking sanctuary in this place. Then we heard the piercing scream of the girl. That is the extent of it," Ismeth elucidated.
In that very moment, a tremor reverberated from beneath, causing the floor to quake.
"Truly, what lies beneath this cellar?" Caleb inquired, his curiosity mingling with concern.
And then, another rumble ensued, followed by a thunderous explosion that shattered the center of the cellar floor. Christine lost her balance, and in a heroic act, Shae leaped after her, both vanishing from sight.
"It appears the time has come to unveil the depths. Picture yourself gliding through," Caleb suggested.
"Child's play," Ismeth commented, leaping forward with unwavering resolve. The young wizard followed suit, both descending into the enigma that awaited them.